This is my grandfather, Arni Guitar. He played the guitar beautifully. He had beautiful laughter and his eyes would shine like two brilliant stars. He was old school person, had strong sense of values and morals. I didn't understand him until much later. I lived with him and granny for a year during my worst year of rebellion against all traditions. I will always been thankful how they stood by me during a massive scandal me and my friend created and got onto the front pages of the newspapers. I was 14 then. I think my grandmother always sees me a bit like I am still 14. But it is OK, perhaps by keeping that part living, that part that hurts to think of, perhaps that part can heal.

My grandfather died beautifully. He was at an art exhibition of a good friend, everyone was singing and as he sang hallelujah in the chorus of the song, his heart stopped breathing and he was off to sing with the angels.